


Birds of a Feather

by Anonymous



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novel)
Genre: Akira/Reader and Lawrence/Reader if you really squint, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Murder of minor character, Now officially an AU due to recent revelations, Or use a microscope, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 01:44:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8268074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: For some reason, you remember that a group of crows is called a murder.In which you kill someone in front of a crowded bar.  Luckily for you, everyone present is strangely sympathetic to murderers.Rated M for the fandom.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr version here: http://virtualtranscendence.tumblr.com/post/151704509041/birds-of-a-feather

It was an accident.

Or that what you liked to tell yourself anyway.

Because if you’re being honest, if you had the chance to do it over, you would’ve killed the fucker all over again anyway.

_He **deserved** it._

Though you wouldn't do it again like this.

_You’re not usually this reckless._

Either way, you’re covered in blood, a fresh corpse lying at your feet, staring into the middle of a small, crowded bar.

All eyes were on you.

Your cold, clammy hands are shaking, gripping the knife handle as if that will somehow make everyone forget that you just murdered someone in cold blood in front of them.

“I…” you start, but trail off.

There’s nothing you can say in this situation to make it better.

Heart beating frantically in your chest, you carefully weigh your options.  If you run now, there’s no way you could escape far away in time if someone calls the police, and even then someone might take action to stop you before you get far.  If you try to fight, maybe try to kill all of the witnesses, there’s no way you’d win against seven adult males, some of whom (the man covered in scars comes to mind) would have no trouble restraining you in a few seconds.

Your throat is tightening up.  You could feel fresh tears beginning to pool at the corner of your eyes.  You’re so very, very afraid of what might happen next.

_You’re not this reckless you don’t lose control like that how could this **happen**_

A man in a red shirt and a leather jacket stands up, and you practically jump out of your skin.

You grip the knife close to your chest.

You’re crying now, and you can feel the tears leaving hot wet trails down your cheeks in utter terror of what he might do to you.

_Please don’t please don’t please don’t it was an **accident**_

But then he stops.

You grip the knife tighter.

Raising his hands, palms facing you, he moves slowly and carefully towards you, moving his arms back and forth in a pacifying gesture.  His movements reminded you of someone who was facing a frightened animal, liable to attack if threatened.

“Hey kid, it’s alright.  We’re not gonna call the cops on you or anything like that,” he speaks softly as he moves gently towards you.

He motions to take the knife from you, and you make a pathetic little squeak and move away from him, and he quickly retracts his hand, moving back into a nonthreatening stance.

“Hey, hey, shh… I’m not gonna hurt you, kid.  But someone might come in or the bartender might come back, and we need to clean this place up before that happens, okay?”

A silence stretches between the two of you as you carefully weigh your options.  On one hand, he might just be saying that to lower your guard, to drop your weapon so you can be more easily restrained without the risk of serious injury, but on the other hand, you had no hope of getting away from the mess you created, even if you had your knife. 

You had nothing to lose at this point.

You nod, almost imperceptibly, and moves to get your knife again.  This time, you loosen your grip enough for him to take it from you, and he smiles at you.

“There we go, kid.  Alright, we better go to work fast.  I’ll lock the doors and keep a look out for the bartender or anyone else coming in.   Sano, Strade, mind taking care of the body?”

A man who looks identical to the one in front of you sitting on a corner table pushes up his glasses and sighs.

“Akira, this is ridiculous.  Why are you helping the kid?  Just leave them to the consequences of their own actions.  It’s not worth the effort.”

“Aw, come on Sano, don’t be so heartless.  Don’t you remember when we were rookies too?  I’d have been really grateful if I had someone helping me out like this,” the man named Akira flashes a big smile at you.

A man in a green polo shirt and cargo pants stands up and moves to pick up the body.

“I agree.  There’s always a first time for everything, right?” he says in a thick accent that you can’t quite place.  He looks at the corpse, blood still oozing out of the stab wounds, then smiles at you.  For some reason, it greatly unnerves you. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have given up your knife so quickly.

“Man, Akira, you’ve sure gone soft since the last time I met you.”  The man covered in scars smirks.

Akira shoots a dirty look at him.  “Fuck off, Vincent.”

Vincent raises his palms in a mock gesture of offense.  “Hey now.  I feel like helping the poor kid clean up too.  Don’t go insulting me now.”

Akira narrows his eyes at him.  “Fine. Go do whatever the fuck you want.  But I’m watching you.”

Vincent smirks, standing up and walking over to the back of the counter.  “I’ll go get a mop and a bucket of water to clean up the mess.  Hey Lawrence, help the kid clean up, would you?  Can’t just have them randomly covered in blood.”

A blond man, who until now had been staring at the body as if entranced, snaps to attention at hearing his name.  “Huh?  Oh, y-yeah.  Sure.”  He stutters, and shyly moves towards you.  He seems as nervous as you are.

“L-let’s get you… c-cleaned up…” he says, and carefully places a hand behind your back to maneuver you to the bathroom, where you meekly follow.

There, he helps you wash the majority of the blood off of your person, and offers you his jacket to cover up the stains that you can’t remove.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wear them with immense satisfaction.

“Y-you can… give it back to me s-some… other time…” He says, and you nod.

There was a short silence before he speaks up in an almost imperceptible tone.

“H-hey… is it alright if- i-is it alright if… I can have the body…?” He trails off.

You stare at him dumbly, trying to comprehend what he’s saying.

“I-if that’s al-alright with you…”

You open your mouth, then close it again, unsure of what to say.

You try again with “U-uh, s-sure, I guess.  You should probably ask Mr. Strade, since he’s the one, uh, taking care of it.”

Lawrence looks off to the side, avoiding eye contact.  “It- It’s yours, though…”

You look down, a bit ashamed at the insinuation.

_You’re not usually this reckless._

Still not looking at you, he mumbles a ‘thank you’ while you exit the bathroom.

Outside, the corpse and the pools of blood are gone, already taken care of by the two volunteers.  Lawrence hobbles over to Strade, presumably to ask for the corpse.

A sharply-dressed man wearing shades looks towards you and raises his drink to you.  “Don’t worry about the security tapes.  Cain and I decided to put aside our… differences and took care of that for you.  It’ll look as if nothing ever even happened.”

You stiffen up a bit, a bit dazed at all of the things happening right now.  “O-oh.  Thank you, sir…”

He smiles at you enigmatically.  “It’s my pleasure, my dear.  I should be thanking you.  This night has been quite… interesting.”

_You’re inclined to agree with him there._

Akira walks over to you and places his hand on your shoulder.  “I suggest you get out of here, kid.  Skip town if you can.  None of us here are gonna spill the beans on you, but better to be safe than sorry in case they find something.”  He says, and hands you something.  It’s your knife, all clean and devoid of blood.  You look at yourself in its reflection.

 “Take care of that, kid.  It’s a good souvenir.  One day you’ll look back on it fondly.  Or not, depends on the kind of person you are.”  He laughs, and moves to sit with Sano again.

_You feel like you’re probably the former._

You look into the bar, at the people who just helped you cover up a murder, and try to reconcile the feelings churning within you.  They helped you, sure, but… why?  It’s not something a regular bystander would do.  A while ago you’d expected them to tackle you, call the police, run away, anything that a sane person would do.  Instead they help you hide the body, clean up, and even erase the security tapes.

What kind of people would do that sort of thing?

You shudder imperceptibly at the possibilities.

But then again, who were you to judge?  You probably weren’t all that different from them anyway.

_For some reason, you remember that a group of crows is called a murder._

You bow your head a bit.  “Th-thank you so much, everybody.  I can’t possibly describe how grateful I am right now.”

 _You’re not usually this reckless_ , you wanted to say.

A man with red hair, presumably Cain, winks at you.  “Anytime, kid.  Feel free to seek any of us out if you need to.”

You nod your head at him, smile, sheathing and pocketing your knife.

As you step out into the cold night air outside the bar, you breathe in deeply, savoring the warm fuzzy feeling fluttering in your chest.

It didn’t turn out so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> There are so many inherent plot holes in this one that I'm tripping up all over the place
> 
> Why didn't the guys just blackmail the protagonist into doing their bidding?  
> How do all of the characters know each other?  
> How could they stand to be in a room together without everything falling apart?  
> Why is the bartender missing?
> 
> Not to mention the fact that we don't know the personalities of the BTD2 boys all that well, so they may be wildly OOC. I'm particularly worried about Vincent.
> 
> Sadly without any of these the story wouldn't work (´･ω･`) I'm sorry ya'll. I hope you enjoyed the fic regardless. Writing a not-so-innocent protagonist was fun. They're not sociopathic, mind you. They can feel empathy and genuinely relate with people. But they have very, very little patience with bigots, like the one they killed in this fic. It's probably because of their empathy that they feel so strongly about bigotry.
> 
> Update 3/27/17: Hahaha I was right to be worried about Vincent, but for the wrong reason, it seems. Welp, this is now officially a BTD AU (set in this universe I guess: https://nagakira.tumblr.com/tagged/vincent-answers/chrono). Reasons stated here, ware spoilers: https://doctor-dollmaker.tumblr.com/post/158854075751


End file.
